Walk Away From Me
by InoFan
Summary: NaruSaku. Everything to everyone, Naruto thinks that he can never be what he really wants to one important person.
1. I'm Still Here

Disclaimer: Not mine. 

Note: More Nar-Nar love from me. Very sad, pensive Nar-Nar. More what I picture him like as he gets older. And my God, I worship Vienna Teng. Her music is exquisite. 

The wind picked up, scattering leaves. They shifted across the weather battered wood of the bridge, making a vague rasping sound that reminded him of the whisper of fabric on skin. Below, the stream drifted away, going places he could never go and touching things he could never touch. Still, he smiled, watching his own reflection waver in the water. 

Hands gripping the railing, Uzumaki Naruto felt the wind shift yet again, tugging at his Hokage robes as if wanting to bring him away. But the faint echo of the past held him steady, and he remembered being here, younger, ambitious, and hopelessly naive. He could see her between them, smiling at Sasuke as he looked away, blinded to anything but his brother. And himself, wanting things he could never have and dreaming of things he'd eventually find. 

Behind him, somewhere in the distance, he heard the laughter of children and the faint strains of music. The lively atmosphere of the market would pull people in and they would stay hours beyond their original intentions. Money would exchange hands, irate vendors would chase pickpockets, and lovers would meet for lunch, when all they would really do is be consumed by one another. 

Konoha. It was a simple village, and his love for it was so all encompassing he'd thought he had none left over for anything else. But he had only been lying to himself, because acting the fool was so much easier than admitting the truth. The child in him scoffed at the idiocy, but the part most prevalent, the adult, knew that what had once seemed so plain was far more difficult than he'd ever understood. 

Releasing the wood, he bent over to rest his forearms in place of his hands. There were so many things that needed his attention, but now and again he had to break away and take a moment alone. Sometimes, he stretched himself so thin being everything to everyone in the village, that he forgot to make time for himself. And there was no one for him to ask if that loss of self was common. 

He caught her scent before he heard her. She made no sound as she walked to the middle of the bridge and silently joined him in his appreciation. He willed himself not to look at her, but he did anyway. Time had been kind to her; she was tall and slender, with a graceful beauty untouched by her melancholy. And as it couldn't help but be, the need to smooth away her worries left him helplessly flexing his fingers. 

Rejection stayed his hand, and the faintly sad cast to her eyes as she turned to him forced him to offer her a smile. She depended on him to be steady for her; a rock she could brace herself against the tide, always there and always dependable. He couldn't disappoint her. Not when she'd had so much shred her dreams. Like him, what she yearned for most was an impossible wish, and she believed in him to convince her otherwise. 

"It's getting colder." Her soft observation was made without any real conviction, and she still didn't look at him. 

"How's work, Sakura-chan?" 

This time she turned, offering him a smile. "That's something I should be asking you." 

"Well, as you can see, I'm terribly busy," he teased, pretending, always pretending. 

As he wanted, she laughed. "That's why you have time for a walk. Neglecting your duties. What kind of Hokage are you?" 

"The best kind," he answered, this pattern between them familiar and somehow painful. 

"Hmm," was her noncommittal answer, as she moved closer and threaded her arm through his companionably. 

"You seem tired," he noted, his concern genuine, but brotherly, as she would forever see it. 

"I haven't been sleeping well lately," she admitted. "Dreams. No, I guess you could call them nightmares." 

Playing the part of good friend, he prodded as was expected of him. "Do you need to talk about it?" 

"You have enough to worry about," she dismissed, resting her cheek against his arm. 

"What kind of Hokage would I be if I didn't care about the people in this village? I'm always here for you." _Always, always here_. 

Faint, impish light filled her expression. "I know. And I appreciate it. But sometimes... I just need to keep things to myself." 

Hurt, he lied. "I understand. Sometimes I need to, too." 

He saw clearly what he could never be. And sometimes the act was so convincing, that he almost believed himself. 

"It's just nice knowing you're here." 

"Hey," he answered, further playing the part. "Hokage can't exactly go wherever he wants." 

Soft laughter, and then she was shoving gently at him. "You know what I mean." 

"Yeah, yeah." _And I know it can never mean more._

Quiet stole over them, and he couldn't help but wonder what sort of picture they presented. A false one, filled with unspoken things and unfulfilled wishes on both their parts. People would look, and see only what was on the surface. But even that was a lie. 

He watched the wind sifting through her hair, capturing strands only to lose them to gravity. She felt like that to him. As if he could reach out, but never quite take hold. There would always be the distance of memories between them, and the regrets of yesterday staining today. And Sasuke's ghost, always standing between them. 

Sakura lived everyday with the hope that he might return. He wished he could say he didn't understand that sort of devotion, but he did. He himself had cared for her for years, never giving in to the inevitable even when it was slapping him in the face. Maybe it was the older they got, the more immature they were. How else could he explain this stubborn will to cling to what was so painfully hopeless? 

So he went through each day, the anticipation of seeing her foremost on his mind. Even when he knew she only had room in her heart for a man who had betrayed them all, shunned her love, and left with no intention of every coming back. And as he ached inside, he couldn't help but admire her inability to let go and move on. 

Of them all, she'd always been the strongest. 

"I should go. And let you get back" 

As if guilty, she unwound herself and stepped away from him. Bereft of the warmth her nearness provided, he unconsciously rubbed his hands along his own arms. 

"I was just passing the bridge to head home when I saw you." 

Yes, he understood he was an afterthought. When they'd been younger, he was the one in the way; the annoying, ignorant loudmouth who only served a wedge between them. Or so Sakura had thought. 

"I'm glad you stopped." 

Smiling, she responded, "Me too." 

"You'd better go. I've got paperwork to get back to, and it's about time I stopped ignoring it." 

"I'll find you tomorrow, _Hokage-sama_," she teased. 

"You do that." He winked. 

Giving a half-wave, she turned her back to him and moved away. 

"Sakura," he called. She paused, looking back. He smiled, and felt something tear loose inside and fall away. _I love you_. 


	2. Let Me Be Your Shoulder

Notes: I'd originally intended for this to be a one-shot. But I hate to leave it where it is; I can't stand to see Nar-Nar lonely and sad. 

And I apologize for the very short chapters, but I need to pace myself. I tend to take forever to finish or don't finish the fics where I push myself for longer chapters. 

_The one that survives by making the lives of others worthwhile...   
Vienna Teng - The Tower_

Shifting the papers around with slow, unhurried movements, Naruto hoped that he presented the image of a man deeply lost in work. In truth, he wasn't seeing any of the writing on the papers and his thoughts were far from where they were supposed to be. He couldn't help but think of Sakura, and how she was getting so thin, suffering from nightmares that left dark smudges beneath her eyes. 

Her lack of confidence in him left him helpless and worried, worthless to solve the problems of the one person he always wanted to be strong for. As Hokage, he left himself open for anyone in the village, no matter how small their troubles might have been. For Sakura, he remained her closest friend and confidant. Though his feelings regarding her were tangled and confused, he never let her know. It would only serve to make their interactions awkward for her. 

Forcing his fingers to still, he set the papers aside and decided to quit pretending he was doing something with the scrolls. It would likely be obvious to anyone that he was preoccupied; at least anyone that knew him well. Yet, in reflection he wondered if it was possible anyone knew him beyond what he allowed them to see. His own worries he kept close to himself, and his smiles hid it all. 

It wasn't as if it went badly for him, however. He just hated being the burden, and would rather be the shoulder for someone else. 

Glancing at the clock on his desk, he frowned briefly. It was shortly past lunch, and he hadn't brought anything to eat. He had been so focused this morning on what had to be done, he'd skipped breakfast as well. There were some days were he didn't eat at all. Sleep took precedence over all else when the days were long and the responsibilities steep. As a child, he knew he had never actually understood what it meant to be the sole protector of a village. 

Despite knowing what he did, Naruto wouldn't renege or find a single moment that he hated it. This was his dream as a child because he wanted the entire village to notice him and realize he wasn't useless. As an adult, this became his dream because he loved the village and all it's people. He wanted to provide peace, prosperity, and comfort for everyone. And he wanted to keep the monsters at bay by dealing with them before they even reached the borders. 

When he looked in the mirror, truly _looked_ at himself, he sometimes wondered at the faint lines around his mouth and eyes. It was hard to imagine he would be 30 in just a few short years. The blond of his hair was less vibrant, but the blue of his eyes remained bright and determined. Every scar was proudly earned, and every line or wrinkle brought on by living to the extreme. He couldn't be sorry for that. 

Laughing, he lowered his head and rubbed at his eyes. "I sound like I'm at the end of my life..." 

Releasing a steady breath, he lifted his eyes and yawned. Anymore, nights were later and mornings were earlier. He supposed he only had the demon fox to thank that he could make the transition smoother than most humans. Not that he intended to admit that the fox helped him for anything other than chakra boosts. The smug, confident beast was anything but modest. Naruto rarely let him out to play, much less praise him. 

As the years had passed and he gained better control over himself, however, their truce and mutual beneficial existence became more tolerable. The fox knew it couldn't exist without him, but that he could exist without it. And he wasn't above letting the demon think that the only reason he kept it around was for the extra power it provided. Especially when the truth was, none of them knew _how_ to get rid of it. Not even Tsunade. 

Stretching his arms above his head, he locked his fingers at the back of his neck and blinked, his perusal of the ceiling yielding no secrets or startling discoveries. Amused at his own lack of initiative and idiocy, he grinned and lowered his gaze in time to be caught in the boyish action by a visitor. Rather than scold him, however, she herself seemed amused. 

Sheepishly, he lowered his arms and said, "You didn't see anything. I really was doing Hokage stuff." 

Draping one arm around her waist as she balanced a full bag on the tips of her fingers, Sakura let all of her weight fall on her burdened hip and smirked. "Mm hm. All Hokage are required to inspect the ceiling, right?" 

"For leaks, y'know..." Naruto tried unconvincingly. 

"Admit it, Naruto. You were slacking," she mock chastised as she shut the door with her foot. 

Slumping over, he let his forehead balance on the edge of his desk. "You caught me. I'm not fit to be Hokage." 

"No you're not," she agreed, tone becoming sharp. "You're starving yourself again. How do you expect to work to full capacity if you starve yourself?" 

Lifting his head, he studied her suspiciously. "Where are your spies?" 

She sneered. "Wouldn't you like to know." 

"Sakura..." He warned. 

Tipping her chin upward, she sniffed. "Everywhere, of course. A woman never reveals her sources." 

Palms flattening on the desk, disturbing papers, his eyes riveted on the bag. Caught by the scent, he forgot about her transgressions. "Is that... ramen?" 

Twirling the bag, she touched one finger to her lips. "I don't know... Maybe I shouldn't give it to you now." 

"If you don't want to see a grown man cry and beg, you'll take pity on me." 

Laughing, a sound he hadn't heard enough of lately, she grasped the back of a chair and pulled it around so that it sat flush with his. Expert, slender hands, which had healed many nin over the years, spread out two bowls of ramen, chopsticks, and napkins. Though it nearly cost him, he waited for her to take her own bowl first and begin eating. 

"You are my savior," he breathed, after the first few heaping bites. 

Sakura fairly beamed, and for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that she was genuinely pleased. "Well, it's not everyday an average gal can say she saved the Hokage." 

He snorted into his ramen, nearly choking on the noodles he had enthusiastically shoveled in. "Average? Only Konoha's most talented med-nin." 

Pushing her hair behind her ear, (and she had kept it short, leaving him to believe it held some significance for her; something to do with Sasuke...) she turned her face away; but not before he caught the faint flush. Puzzled by it, he didn't push for former knowledge and experience that pushing Sakura meant having her retaliate unkindly. 

"No I'm not," she mumbled, ducking her head and focusing on her ramen. 

Brows drawing together, he lowered his chopsticks and examined the pale pink locks that obscured her face from his view. The Sakura he had remembered from his childhood was temperamental and overconfident. As he became older and knew her better, he realized that like himself, she had made up for her insecurities by pretending to others that they didn't exist. And that she was uncertain in everything from her talents to her appearance. 

_It's no wonder,_ he thought darkly. _Sasuke had never given her any reason to believe she was special or worth his attention._

That familiar jolt of anger tugged his shoulders higher and stiffened his spine as he struggled to keep his emotions from his face. Sasuke was gone, _had been gone_ for a long time now. It wasn't going to bring either of them peace if he voiced his hurt and stripped her feelings for the missing-nin bare, forcing her to relieve them here. 

Instead, he reached for her face, tipped her chin so that he could look into her clear eyes - filled with doubt, pain, and so many others things he didn't want to put a name to - and gave her a smile, made it real for both of them. 

"Hey, hey, who are you to question the Hokage? What I say is law. I say you're special. Don't try to argue with me. I won't have it." 

She gave him a hesitant smile in return. It took every single fiber of strength he possessed not to reach out and smooth his thumb along the shadows beneath her eyes. 

"You're so bossy." 

He grinned; a wicked flash of white. "Payback. You were the bossiest kunoichi I ever had the pleasure of knowing. Still are." 

She laughed. It caught somewhere between mirth and a sob. Unable to stand her pain, he did what he knew he shouldn't. He gathered her up into his arms, pulled her into his lap and against his chest, and let her have her cry. 


	3. Inhale and Exhale

Notes: Thank you so much for the reviews. It keeps me going when the writing isn't coming so well. And Keltosh, I'd never considered NaruIno before, but that pairing intrigues me. I'll have to give it a shot! 

It kinda sounds like it, but this isn't done yet. My writing and the characters just have minds of their own, and decided it was going in this direction before I had a chance to protest... >.>;; 

_And it only hurts when you cry...   
Vertical Horizon - When You Cry_

The ramen cooling and forgotten, Naruto lay his cheek to rest against Sakura's head and stroked a hand down her back in comfort. Her hands, rough from unforgiving work, gripped the front of his Hokage robes as if letting go would leave her lost and drifting. His own arm was steady around her waist, keeping her firmly anchored and aware that she had something solid, tangible to lean into. 

Her cries having subsided to an occasional sniffle and stray hiccup, she buried her face in his chest and rubbed her nose against him. Jolted by the resultant feelings, he kept himself very still, very stiff (and hoped she wasn't just wiping her nose on him). Whatever she did, however, he couldn't hold fault with her. He'd never made her aware of how he felt past his childhood declarations of a crush. And if it meant an easier time for her, he would carry it to his grave. 

There were a great deal and many things he wanted to say. But the experience of age and wisdom stayed his tongue. Nothing he could say was going to make a difference in the way she felt. He only wished she would confide in him so he could find what was troubling her lately and help. Sakura hadn't been herself for the past few weeks at the least, month at the most. If he thought back, searched his memory, he could remember the exact day and where he was when she first seemed bothered. 

The memory was unkind. It took you down paths better forgotten, and tugged at the mind during the most inappropriate of times. He would be in a meeting, and think of her; something she'd said or done during the day that had stayed with him. Maybe it was the way she brushed her hair back from her face or the slight angle she held her head. Her eyes, her smile, her scent. And it was all he could do to concentrate on breathing one slow breath at a time. 

It was like being consumed alive from the inside. He could tell himself a thousand times over that loving her would kill him, but it didn't matter. The years passed quickly and they passed slowly, drawing out his pain with exquisitely unmerciful delectation. As long as his mind functioned, he would know what it was to love her without having the sentiment echoed. 

Absently, he brought his fingers to her hair and mimicked the actions they'd taken earlier for her back. If nothing else, he could bring her comfort. She had to know that there was at least one soft place for her to fall. He would catch her every time without pause or fail; it was enough to see her smile. It _had_ to be enough. 

Sakura shifted, a watery laugh escaping her like a sob. "Look at my nails." She held a hand out for both of them to examine. "I used to take such care of them, paint them everyday. Now I'm lucky if I can keep them from cracking." 

Soberly, he lifted his own hand and held it against hers. "Look at my nails. I used to paint them too, but now..." He ended on an exaggerated sigh. 

Soft laughter and she was shoving at his shoulder. "Oh, you did not..." 

"I particularly liked the color pink," he was continuing, pretending as if he hadn't heard her. 

Giggling helplessly she grasped her stomach with both hands and ordered, "Stop it!" 

"But then one day I discovered green. And it was all over. My love affair with pink ended on a rather sad note." 

"Uzumaki Naruto! I'm going to-" 

He wiggled his eyebrows. "What? Heal me?" 

Without hesitation, she slugged him in the gut. 

"Christ Sakura..." He wheezed. "You're like Obaa-san. Don't know your own strength." 

"Don't _you_ forget it." 

"How can I?" He rubbed ineffectively at his abdomen. "I think you left a bruise the size of a grapefruit." 

"Na-ru-to!" That tone had him wincing. "Are you saying I'm fat?" 

_Why did women always think you were calling them fat?_

"And you think I have a death wish, _why_?" 

A pause. "Mm. Good point." 

Yawning, she rearranged herself in his lap again and snuggled closer, tucking her head in the pocket of his shoulder. He let the motions be what they were, knowing it was useless to make more of them than there was. It wasn't fair to either of them for him to torment himself that way. Sakura, in her ignorance, knew nothing of his feelings and it was better she never did. 

A faint sigh escaped, and then, "Naruto..." She picked at his robes. "I'm sorry for being such a pest. I-I don't know what's wrong with me lately." 

Distantly, his eyes traced the outlines of books residing on the shelves along the walls. Most of them belonged to the first five Hokage; but a great portion of them were now his. His contribution to the most revered tradition, and his unselfish love of Konoha. He had reached his dream, fulfilled his wish, and those who had once shunned him, could no longer. And strangely enough it didn't matter. 

"Sakura," he said carefully, "you're never a burden. I don't do things because I have to. I do them because I want to." 

She remained as she was a moment longer, and then lifted her eyes to his. With slow, hesitant movements, she raised her hand to his face and pressed her fingers against the warmth of his skin. As he stilled, his mind trying to wrap around this sudden interest in him, she traced the marks on his face with her fingertips. 

As nice as it was, Sakura didn't understand the danger in the hunger that slicked through him; wants, needs, and the ripe spike of lust - that ever prevalent desire that heralded to the most base of human frailties, along with hunger and sleep. People were programmed to seek out others and mate, so they would never live their lives alone. But the deepest imprint wasn't so different from the demon fox; all living creatures had the need to leave themselves behind in the form of their offspring. 

He deliberately kept his face blank and his eyes guarded. To protect himself, he would hide it all; the pain, the loneliness, and the anger. Helpless emotions had never served to better him or give him what he sought most. Naruto had learned young that nothing could be gained by simply _feeling_. Everything he had, he had because he'd sweat, bled, and lost for it. And he couldn't help but think he appreciated it more because of it. 

To save them both the embarrassment of misunderstanding, he closed his fingers around her hand and stopped her ministrations. Though it cost him; her fingers were rough where others were smooth and capable where others were weak. He'd never appreciated a hand that knew nothing of the joy and suffering of honest work. And for all Sakura pretended to be above everything, he knew no one worked harder than she did. 

Confusion and something he couldn't recognize filtered through her expression. And then she was moving, rising to align her face with his, and touching his lips with hers. Just the barest pressure of her lips and the whisper of flavor unique to only her. 

And he went numb, couldn't move to respond. Sakura had never willingly touched him in any way but friendship. 

Eyes wide and bright in her face, seeming to overshadow any other feature, she went first pale and then flushed. His grip was weak, and it took her little effort to break free and turn from him; but not before he caught the tears in her eyes. 

Naruto couldn't say what spurned him into motion. Strong fingers, capable of crushing a man and being only the most gentle with her, closed around her wrist and he was tugging her back. She hit his chest with an audible snap and a startled, female squeak. There were fresh tracks on her face, made from tears he'd caused. And the anger with himself was a bright flash, because he'd promised that he would never hurt her if he could help it. 

Feelings struggled within him, vying for the surface and winning with a little push from the demon fox. If he let himself feel everything for her, he knew he would frighten her away. But the temptation was too much and the will to fight it wasn't strong enough. 

"You don't understand what you're doing, Sakura," he murmured, before lowering his head and tracing the tears on her face with his tongue. Her skin was salty-sweet and the low growl in his throat was answered by one deep inside, buried out of necessity. 

Her arms went around his neck and she pressed herself to him, her breasts soft and firm against his chest. "Yes I do," she answered, a hitch in her words as she let her head fall back. "I'm telling you what my problem is." 

His head jerked up. "You-" 

Sakura bit her lip, looking very much like the little girl he remembered. "It's not all of it, but... Do you hate me, Naruto?" 

He laughed, he couldn't help it. "Hate you?" 

She turned her face away from him. "I treated you poorly. And now..." Shame stained her cheeks and she tried to move away. 

He held her fast, forcing her to look at him. "Sakura, we were children. We're not children anymore," he reminded her. "And what you do here has consequences." 

There was the faintest spark of temper in her eyes, and he felt relieved for it. 

"Damn the consequences. I was always the one following the rules, while secretly hating them. I wanted everyone to like me, to be proud of me. And I was so jealous of you and your freedom to say and do what you wanted. I don't want to pretend anymore, Naruto." 

"What are you saying?" He asked, careful to keep the fear and hope from his tone. 

"That I'm making myself sick denying." 

"What?" He murmured softly, unmoving. 

"That I..." She bit her lip again. "That I can't see you as a friend anymore. I want more than I know I deserve... Don't hate me. I understand if you-" 

"That's enough." And he forced her back to him, taking her lips, his own hot and demanding. Slanting his head, he took them deeper and tasted her, steeped in the scent and the wants. 

Against her lips he said, "Just know. I can't let you go now." 

With something between a laugh and a sob, she threw her arms around his neck and gave freely of herself. 


	4. One True Thing

Note: Thanks again, so much, for all the reviews! I too love this pairing, and older Naruto is such a joy to write. 

After giving it some thought, I realized that all this fic needs is an epilogue, no matter how much I'd like to write more for it. 

_You're the one true thing I know I can believe in   
Sarah McLachlan - Push_

The leaves were turning when the Hokage took a wife. She wore a kimono of white and at her best friend's insistence, had roses in her hair. Nearly the entire village came, but the most important ones were his close family and friends. Those ones gathered well into the night at their former instructor's house; laughing, drinking, and telling tales both true and with no basis in reality. 

There was only one person missing, and he couldn't say that he didn't think of his former friend from time to time. But his wife and the joy she wore bright and alive in her face captured most all of his attention. He scarcely left her side, except for her occasional trips to the bathroom (which the others didn't let him escape from teasing as they demanded to know why he didn't just follow her in there as well). 

Gifts were exchanged, and the moments weren't without their laughter, tears, and annoyance. Some of them were appropriate and others quite useless, but he wasn't any less pleased with those than the others. Advice was given (both good and bad), toasts were created (sometimes just for the excuse to drink), and games were played (some revealing more about your friend than you actually wanted to know). He kept it all inside, squiring it away in his memory to take out for a day when he forgot what it all meant. 

He ate until he thought he was going to be sick, laughed until he cried, and all the while, kept her foremost in his mind, careful not to drink too much so that he could be lucid for later when they were alone. They shared secrets when their eyes met, love when their fingers touched as they passed, and lust while they danced. And the joy of it all, with it's imperfections whirled them both from one moment to the next. 

Someone drank too much and couldn't make it to the bathroom; someone fell asleep on another; and someone started a fight only to remember where they were and to save their grievances for later. Romances not well known were revealed, marriages were solidified, and the beginning of romances began with them all privileged enough to be witness. Through it all, he remembered why he loved this village, it's people, and the quick, unforgiving jolt of living. 

Much later in the night, when they were alone as the night fell around them, they gave unselfishly of themselves as they came together. Weary from the celebrations, they fell asleep wrapped in each other, unaware that this first time together was all it took to create life. 

It was he that would fall asleep after her, unable to help himself from watching her peaceful in dreams. And as his eyes slipped shut, he laced his fingers with hers and remembered to share with her the one true thing that had never changed. _I love you_. 


End file.
